At Cape Noshappu (野寒布岬 / not to be confused with Cape Nosappu, which I had visited a couple of weeks previously), I bought presents for Mrs M and the in-laws, in the shape of tarako (鱈子 / cod roe) and ikura (salmon roe), which would wing their way to Ibaraki via that most Japanese of conveniences, kuuru-bin (クール便 / refrigerated postage). In the UK, for a parcel of any kind to reach its destination - let alone in one piece - is a minor miracle, whereas here you can quite literally send a single choc ice from one end of the country to the other, with a guarantee that it will still be shrink-wrapped and frozen when it gets there.

From Noshappu I continued south for what was, along with the road between Akkeshi and Nemuro in the far east of Hokkaido, one of the most glorious days' riding of the summer.

The coast road makes its way through the Sarobetsu Wetlands National Park, although an equally important reason for my enjoyment was the strong following wind, which propelled me effortlessly along as a succession of grimacing cyclists passed by on the opposite side of the road, each battling against the headwind and no doubt feeling as exhausted and thoroughly pissed off as I had on the previous day's slog to Cape Sohya.

One such unfortunate was Mr Small River, who I met at a roadside café. Mr Small River worked for a saké company in Osaka, and despite looking a good ten years younger than me, revealed that this was his thirtieth time in Hokkaido. He had previously come here by both car and motorbike, and I sensed that he wasn't yet a cycling veteran, as despite his struggle with the wind being made easier by a super-lightweight racing bike (pictured), it was simultaneously made more difficult by the enormous rucksack (not pictured) he was shouldering as he rode it.

...and just as photogenic from the front as from the back (note the mini-Anpanman figurines either side of the bumper).

The island of Rishiri (利尻島 / literally 'Profitable Buttocks Island' - yes, your guess is as good as mine) lies about fifteen kilometres off the coast, and if my memory serves me correctly is the setting for the rather downbeat ending to Will Ferguson's excellent travel book Hokkaido Highway Blues.

Rishirisan (利尻山), the 1721-metre-high peak that dominates the island, is - like pretty much any mountain in Japan with a volcano-like profile - known colloquially as Rishiri-fuji for its supposed resemblance to Mount Fuji, and as the sun set, several amateur photographers - including yours truly - could be seen rushing around a patch of waste ground near Teshio harbour, each of us looking for the ideal angle from which to capture the scene.

About me 私について

I suppose I must be the archetypal J-blogger - married to a native, working as an English teacher, still struggling with the language - and the main purpose of this blog is to give you an idea of what life is like for a multi-cultural couple in small-town Ibaraki.